wallflower | taekook

seventeen.

"Here I am trying to teach
the death within me how to live."
— Jean Cocteau

Taehyung POV

I'm not sure if I was given an unlimited amount of time would I have been able to guess what Jungkook needed me for. The idea of me needing to be a knight was some metaphor his little book worm brain must have come up with, not considering the fact that he was talking to someone else who can't keep up.

"Kook, what's up?" I asked again, it was the third time. The younger boy was just fiddling around his apartment and doing a real bad job at pretending to be busy. First it was his shoes, they needed to be neatly placed by the door, then it was the books he left out on the coffee table that needed to go back to their original places next to the tv. This whole time he still didn't turn on a light or open the curtains. "Hey, Jungkook." I said, my long strides making it easy to reach for his hand and tug him away from he bookshelf.

"What?" he asked. My gaze flickered down and I noticed the whiteness to his fingers around the spine of the leather book, his grip tight. His once black hair sat messy on his head, a dusty rose color that didn't match the dark bags that still remained under his eyes. I reached up to tuck a strand of the soft locks behind his ear, "What's going on up there?" my words came out a soft whisper, followed by a small smile when the younger boy seemed to visibly relax.

Jungkook tossed the book gently onto the couch cushion, his now free hand soon finding mine. "Come help," was all he said.

It was a short walk to his bedroom. The lights were all off of course, and a book lay open on his desk. There were papers next to the novel that lay blank and accompanied by others that were crumbled up from frustration. Jungkook abandoned my hand, leaving my arm to drop to my side as he walked to his bathroom, the already ajar door letting out a subtle glow from the single candle on the sink. "I need your help." he said again.

The younger boy has already stressed this, without anymore elaboration or hint at what I should do next. "Jungkook, you gotta tell me what to do," I said walking slowly over to him. He was now crouched down on the tiles, his fingers holding onto the little knob that would open the drawer under the sink. "What are we doing baby?" I whispered, crouching down myself beside him.

Jungkook didn't seems affected by the sweet nickname, at least not negatively. However there was that damn habit he had of chewing on his bottom lip, nibbling on the pink flesh like the anxiety eating away at himself.

He pulled open the small doors under the sink and shoved a bin of something back further, the lack of light keeping the contents hidden. Instead he grabbed a box of something, a few of the others of its same kind falling over and make the contents inside rattle subtlety.

"This was a bad idea," Jungkook said once we both stood, gesturing to his head of hair. The box in his hands was a dyeing kit, the color black. I wasn't going to consider the reason why he had so many unused ones already prepared for future scenarios.

I rolled my eyes with a soft chuckle, "I told you, I like it."

He still seemed unsure, but cracked a small smile anyways, "That's not good enough to keep it, besides I like it when other people touch my hair."

I took the box from his hands and read the side quickly, it seemed relatively easy and I'm assuming he's already done this before. But reading the instructions anyways helped distract the thoughts entering my mind after his innocent confession about liking his hair being touched by other people.

He went to go get a chair and a towel to lay on the edge of the sink, sitting down with his back facing it so he could lean back when I needed to rinse his head under the faucet. As he got situated I opened the hair dye box, pulling out the gloves with the little brush and applicator bottle. "You know maybe you should take of your shirt so it doesn't accidentally get stained."